


And Silence Marched In as King

by OakwoodOuroboros



Category: In a Heartbeat (Short Film)
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Mutism, Slurs, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-01-25 20:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18581848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OakwoodOuroboros/pseuds/OakwoodOuroboros
Summary: Jonathan has a stutter. On the first day in his new school, he makes the mistake of talking. From then on, he's caught in a maelstrom of plots and statuses, hierarchy and traps, and the spider's web of a starcrossed love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Kira, for making me write this.

There it was again. He couldn’t help himself, he had watched without uttering a single word while they beat up his brother until his nose was a bloody mess and his glasses smashed into unmendable pieces. There were times where he had fought, he had beaten back and bit and made sure the others hurt for what they had done to their brother, but not once had he talked. Until today, that is.

“G-g-g-get away f-from him!”

They had stopped. They had stared. Then the worst thing that could have happened, happened.

“Oooooooh J-j-Jonathan! You c-can’t s-s-speak~?”

They laughed the crude laugh of sixth graders, one that simply enraged even the most patient of kids.

“Sh-shut up-p!”

“Look at him, he’s crying! Little baby Jonathan is crying because he c-c-can’t speak p-p-p-properly!”

Tears did indeed run down his face, he noticed, as his eyes blurred over and his voice hitched even worse than earlier on. He stopped speaking as soon as he noticed the squeak, the hesitation, everything that made him seem weak.

“Not talking anymore? But it was so, funny! Come on J-J-J-Jonathan! Don’t you want to make us laugh?” The kid stepped forward, grasping the boy’s hair and roughly pulling his face up to meet his own snarling one. “Don’t you want to amuse us, you ape?”

He remained quiet. That was the only thing that could protect him in this situation.

“Well, maybe you’re not a monkey, but at least we can make you squeal like a pig. Your brother did that for us, why not you? Do you stutter when you scream, you little shit?”

Jonathan was stone cold now. Silent, as imperturbable as a rock face, he calculated the strength he would need to knock out the other boy, raised his arm, and simply struck him with all his might.

The kid remained paralyzed in shock for a few seconds, looking at Jonathan with wide eyes that bulged slightly out of his head, before he collapsed to the dirty school lino below.

The cronies looked at each other, concerned, before backing up and taking a run for it. They were wimps, for sure, but they were far from being as hypocritical as the one who had been their leader. The boy let out a small, disdainful “Tch,” before walking over to his brother and helping him up from where he had been tossed to the floor.

“Wow Jonny, never knew you could just do that! How did you do it?”

He wanted to answer. He really did, but the words stayed stuck in his throat. They wouldn’t come out, they couldn’t come out. They were stuck. But Jonathan could answer with a simple shrug, no words needed. No more weakness needed.

Because he had now found strength in silence, and in that sole repose he would from now on forever stay.

* * *

 

The first day Jonathan attended the new school, he would have made sure that he looked perfect. Despite his second-hand uniform, his mother and he had worked on making it look absolutely perfect, new even. He had done the same with his own face and hair, gelling it back just so, applying makeup over his scars, freckles and other small imperfections that littered his face, erasing them from existence as far as anyone was aware. once he was finished, he stared at himself in the mirror for a little longer, before trying, once more, the thing that he had been testing these last few years.

“H-H-Hello…”

The brunet grunted in frustration. There was no use, it would never disappear overnight like that, even though he wished it would. The stutter had ruined his life and probably the one of his family, Roman was targeted because of this, his mother had problems holding down a job and letting him get orthophonical treatment at the same time. He was a drain on resources, a pain in the butt, as his brother would say.

But at least he had his refuge in silence.

The silence was his power. If he didn’t speak, as long as he didn’t open his mouth, he had the power over not only himself, but others too. He’s scary. He’s powerful. If he spoke… all that would be gone. It was a volatile power.

He turned his back on the mirror and exited the bathroom, grabbing his brand new school bag on his way out. The thing was of good quality, leather with the school crest emblazoned on it. Fortunately, it was a rental from the school; he didn’t think his mom would have been able to afford such an expensive part of his uniform.

As usual, his mother was busy pottering around on her early morning kitchen routine, making sure her sons would be able to eat a good full meal before they even started the day.

“Hi Jonny!” she twittered, her voice high and happy. She seemed so much more excited about their first day than Jonathan and Roman combined, the latter of which was dozing off, glasses close to falling off his nose into his mug of tea.

“So, you’re going to be good today Jonny, ok? Answer teachers when they ask you a question-”

“Mom,” Roman interrupted, and to Jon’s dismay, pushed his glasses back up his nose before they could fall into his morning beverage. “Jon won’t speak, no matter how badly you want him to. Please stop annoying him, he can’t help it.”

She pursed her lips, looking like she was going to answer in a particularly scathing way, but in the end, she let it go and continued on cooking. The room went quiet, and several times Roman fell asleep in his bowl (serves him well for drinking tea and not coffee), but despite usually elbowing him awake again, Jonathan didn’t feel like doing so this morning. This morning, despite seeming on top of everything and handling everything perfectly, deep down he didn’t feel that way. The butterflies in his stomach were a classic reminder to the fact that he was going to be attending a new school, with new rules and new classmates who may or may not want to beat the shit out of him. He poured himself some coffee from the maker and sipped at it quickly, the black bean juice making the butterflies intensify their wing beating. There was the common silence at the table, before Jonathan hurriedly got up, eyed doefully by his brother, who watched him get up and go out of the kitchen, bemused. Roman looked at the clock: it was still six in the morning.

Jonathan put his brand new jacket on and adjusted his tie, taking one last glance in the mirror to check his foundation before he set off. His mother hurried after him, but there was no way he was going to let her kiss his cheek, so he simply went outside and smiled and waved at her as she said her goodbyes.

Newgate academy wasn't all that far from their house, which was a good thing seeing as the weather was stormy and threatening to rain at some point. The gate and main door were open, but there didn't seem to be anyone around yet in the gloomy old building, made even more foreboding by the clouded sky. It was so gloomy, in fact, that Jonathan jumped out of his skin when he was confronted with the silhouette of a hunched over lady.

“Here so early, new one?”

Her voice was old and croaky, like a toad’s, and as she stepped into the light, Jonathan could see that her face was as covered in pustules as one would expect from the animal too.

He didn’t reply, of course, only smiled. Either she hadn’t seen, or she was dissatisfied with Jonathan’s response, turning her back and humphing and stomping away from the scene.

There was no way that he wanted this, he had needed to feel stronger, not to feel so low as to have disappointed the janitor from his first day here. He held back tears, not wishing to do what he was planning on doing, but deciding that this decision was the only exception that he would make.

“H-h-hello m-m-m-ma’am,” he said, very quietly. He didn’t think that she had heard him, and indeed she had not, but someone, someone who had been sneaking around the school from the early hours of the morning, had listened very clearly to what Jonathan had to say, and how exactly he had said it.

“Why hello there, newbie,” someone said behind him. Jonathan spun around on his heels, his complexion going from healthy to grey. There, standing tall and proper in his neatly shined shoes, was a white, blond boy, his smirk giving away his personality better than any number of years knowing him would.

“Seems like you have a small enunciation problem, hmm? Well… I can either get my pals to sort that out for you,” he said, the bully in him showing that this school would be no better than the previous one that Jonathan had attended. “-Or you can join us, and help us get rid of the scum of this school. There’s too much of that here, and you’re either one of them, or you’re with us. Now, what do you think, n-n-newbie?”

Jonathan snarled, but was not baited into saying anything more. He was silent, as he was supposed to be, but it was too late now. He was vulnerable, and sure he had the muscle to be a crony, but he was not going to do this because he enjoyed it, oh no. He had made a mistake, and this was on him now.

He nodded, and presented a hand for the blond to shake. The other boy quickly took it and shook it firmly, although his hand did get crushed in the process.

“Unwilling, huh? Remember, if you betray me, you’re back in the pit with the others, and I do not give second chances, you get me?”

Another nod from Jonathan, and suddenly the handshake was over, and the blond was patting the brunet’s back in a way that he tried to pass off as manly.

“Your secret’s safe with me, buster. Yeah, that’s your new name now, Buster. You’re going to bust a lot of things on your first day here, trust me. Whatcha think about busting in the little fag’s skull today, huh? If he hasn’t quit and gone to the nun’s, that is.”

Jonathan didn’t respond, only looked far ahead, trying his darndest not to bite his lip. He was not sadistic, he was not a bully, and he definitely didn’t want to hurt some poor random kid who was probably only rumoured to be gay. In his mind’s eye, there was nothing wrong with it, and if it were not for his slip-up, he would have probably tried to help the kid build his self-confidence and learn to stand up to the bullies that he had to endure. That was what Jonathan had done, after all.

This was the moment the brunet took his second life-changing decision. He would, no matter what, help this kid this blond fucker was so intent on hurting. Even if he had to go behind his “boss’” back, he would do whatever it took so that the boy could stand up to any abuse.

Even if it was by his own hand. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman is Kira's character.

They spent the rest of the time before the first classes in the library. The boy Jonathan got to know as Thomas was actually pretty smart, reading ahead of the reading assignments so that he could get a head start. Jonathan, on the other hand, was struggling to get through Newgate Academy’s paperwork: the map was a mess, the class plan one that he had never seen before, and the timetables made his head spin. And of course, he could not ask anyone for help.

Thomas closed his book and leaned back in his chair, the fourteen-year-old trying to look somewhat more mature despite his complete lack of such. “So Buster, how come you landed in this dead-end school? Picked too many fights, maybe? Hmm? Or was it something... “ He stopped teetering in his chair, the legs slamming down on the wooden floor and prompting a shush from the librarian under the mezzanine they were seated at. “...Else?”

Jonathan swallowed his spit with difficulty, the intimacy of the statement, despite being completely innocent in nature, made him very nervous, all at once. There was no danger, no wrong answer if you didn’t answer, that is. Instead of doing anything of the kind, he frowned.

The blond leaned back in his chair again with a world-weary sigh, taking a second to look the brunet up and down. Maybe he had noticed something, had his makeup smudged? Maybe it was something else. Maybe this boy could look into one’s heart and see what really was there.

“You see, Buster…”

Again that infuriating nickname. Hadn’t he seen his real name on his paperwork?

“... There are things in this world I just hate, and things that are just there to be dominated, you get me?”

He didn’t, but he nodded with earnest nonetheless.

“There are things that are just too puny, like ants, but with maybe an inkling of intelligence. Not much, mind you, but just enough to listen to orders and make a satisfying noise if you punch them hard enough. You get my drift?”

He didn’t, but he didn’t dare shake his head.

“The fucking homos! They’re everywhere, Thomas said in a conspiratorial tone, something in his eyes indicating fear buried deep beneath the hatred. “They can look like any random dude, and then they come out to you, and you realize that during all that time they were spying on you and thinking that way about you like that.

The blond shuddered. Jonathan remained unmoved by the boy’s words. Yet again, this guy may have his reasons, some trauma that had made him this way; someone who had actually hurt him, or somebody forcing him into viciously homophobic beliefs. Whatever had happened, this boy had been broken somehow, and it was nearly pitiful how he tried to work his way through them by hurting the others around him.

Never matter that, the bell was now ringing and the boys only had a few minutes to pack up and hurry to the front of the school before their names were called out, and they rejoined their classes. There, in the hustle and bustle of the beginning of school year, Thomas elbowed Jonathan in the ribs and pointed to another kid wearing the compulsory blue and grey uniform. He was smaller than average, not having hit the growth spurt most kids his age would have, and for a second Jonathan thought that he was a kid from the year below them, were it not for the yellow tie that indicated their year group. What ultimately gave him away was his flaming red hair, some stray ones shining with a golden hue in the morning light. What Jonathan could only assume were his foster parents were doting over him, their much younger daughter holding on tight to her mother’s pant leg, whilst the latter combed her hands through his hair and straightened out the uncrooked tie. The foster father was smoking an old fashioned pipe, his dark eyes shining with pride as he gave a last few words of advice to his charge before he started his new year.

The boy had nothing special, although he did have a certain air of innocence around him, but otherwise, Jonathan definitely could not see why Thomas had pointed him out to him. Then, it clicked. Small, red hair. He was the gay kid. The one the blond despised so much. Jonathan didn’t move, just looked upon the scene as the redhead laughed at something his dad said, tried to escape, in vain, his mother’s kiss, and gently hugged his sister before he turned his back on them and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Why hello there, my little monkey. Thinking of becoming a Homo Sapiens at last?” Thomas sneered, laughing at his own joke. Jonathan stood to the side, awkward. Of course he wanted to help the kid, but he couldn’t do so with his new “boss” just standing there next to him, right?

A flashback to the summer’s events. The rope. The barbed wire. The cries, the screams, the relief.

Before he knew it, he was standing in between them. He had his back turned on Thomas, so he couldn’t make out his expression but there was no doubt that it was furious. All Jonathan’s energy, all his bitterness and regret welled up in him, and suddenly, without warning, he released it in a resounding slap that somehow echoed in the crowded rec space.

The redhead stumbled back, stunned. One step, two, before his feet ceased holding him up and he fell into his mother’s arms. His scarlet red hair now matched the streak of blood that poured from his nose, and accompanied by the purplish bruise which had started to form on his left cheek. The family glared at Jonathan, and the father looked like he was about to say something, but his daughter, terrified and now holding onto his pant leg, stopped him from going any further in his movement.

“I hope you are ashamed of yourself, young man,” the lady huffed, helping her son up and dabbing at his nose with the same tissue that she had used earlier on to wipe a smudge on the redhead’s nose. “Honey, you don’t have to go in today if you don’t want to, this is getting too much.”

The redhead must have whispered something to his mother, as she slowly let go of him and gave him the tissue he had used to wipe his nose. He sent a glare in Thomas and Jonathan’s way, before he sped off to join his first-class group.

“See what I mean?” said the blond, half hissing his words out as he did. “He’s a menace. Thank you for sticking up for me there buddy, I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. I did think for a moment that you had betrayed me on  the first call, but I’m glad to see that you’re not that kind of dude, am I right?”

He would say nothing. He couldn’t say anything of the ache in his heart as such a murderous stare had been directed towards him and his actions, he couldn’t say anything of how much he had wished his hit had been for the blond to receive and not the innocent freckled kid. But the circumstances being what they were, there could have been no other outcome. If he had shown a molecule of sympathy towards the redhead kid, he would have been treated like he had been treated before, and all his efforts would have been for nothing. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone who was familiar to him, and his heart sank.

Slowly, he turned away from Thomas and walked towards the person staring at him with an expression that was a mix of anger, disbelief and pain. As soon as he got close enough to his brother, Jonathan could feel the boy’s aura of betrayal. Before he knew it, he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled outside of the milling company that was the general chaos of parents and school kids about to attend their first year at Newgate.

“Jonathan,” he started, but then he sighed and let go of him. “I don’t know why you did that and I’m not sure how this is going to end, but please don’t get caught up in this. I don’t want you to become a bully just because you were bullied too.”

The boy looked around quickly, taking in the numerous people surrounding them and making sure that none were listening before replying in a whisper: “I d-d-don’t… I’m not.”

He tried to be as confident as he could be in his response, even managing to repress his speech impediment for a second, and this seemed all that was needed to satisfy his brother. It could have been way worse; he could have been questioned for hours on his choices, on the whys and hows of his decision, but in the end… With a sickening feeling, Jonathan realized his brother trusted him.

And of course, he was going to have to break that trust. He didn’t cry, but he certainly felt like doing so.

“Buster! Hey Buster, where are you?”

“Th-that’s my c-c-call,” he said forlornly, but Roman was quick to scoop up his face in his hands and to push his forehead right up to Jonathan’s, making his eyes look weird and pressing Roman’s round glasses painfully against his own face.

“Awkward brother promise that you’re not going to do anything stupid?”

“P-promise,” Jonathan replied, but unbeknownst to the now relieved Roman, who let him go moments later, one of his hands was secretly hidden behind his back, and the fingers of that hand were crossed as tightly as can be.

* * *

 

“Right class, time for presentations,” Mr. Stout was quick to say as soon as everyone was sat down. “Starting from the back of the class, seeing as everyone there is trying their darndest to get away from me.”

The class groaned, but the shrill clang of the metal ruler on the teacher’s desk was enough to silence everybody. Everybody but Thomas, that is, who seemed to be a special exception somehow.

“Hey Buster, you’re sure your brother ain’t a homo?” Thomas whispered loudly. Jonathan sighed and scribbled on a piece of paper: He’s straighter than a line of coke

“Ooooh right. He just seemed to be hella close to you and all.”

Shut the fuck up. That’s just plain disgusting

“You’d be surprised.”

The teacher seemed to have had quite a bit enough of this, because he immediately skipped over the awaiting students with a “Thomas, care to introduce yourself?”

Unlike the other students, the blond seemed more than happy to stand up and belt out his full name: “Thomas Jasper Barry, I’m the son of the school principal and owner of this entire place. Do not cross me, or you’ll sorely regret it.”

The teacher visibly sighed and pinched his nose. “You can sit down now, Thomas.”

The roll call continued as such, all the time growing closer and closer to Jonathan. Finally, it was his turn, and with a screech of his chair that he could not help, despite his best efforts, he got up and walked to the front of the class. The chalkboard was very clean at this beginning of the year, and it nearly seemed a shame to dirty it, but what had to be done had to be done, after all.

I’m Jonathan Castrillo. I’m mute. I am not deaf.

As was to be expected, whispers erupted throughout the class. This, he was used to, but at least they weren’t as bad as they were when he used to introduce himself orally. All in all, the whispers seemed more curious than mocking. Even the teacher looked like his attention had been piqued, and was looking through his paperwork to find specifications of Jonathan’s condition. Finding nothing, and probably relieved that at least one less student was likely to disrupt his lesson, he waved Jonathan on and back to his seat.

During the rest of the roll call, Thomas would sometimes point out a person or two as “targets”: people who seemed unsure, have a low self-esteem or physically weak, one kid who had a lisp and another who was way, way, way too tall for his age.

Then they got to the front row.

The first few students to introduce themselves seemed pretty plain, but the third… The third was the redhead. His bruise was still fully visible on his cheek, having gone from a purple to a greenish hue. Guilt came back to Jonathan faster than a wave in a stormy sea would, making him nearly double over from the sickening feeling in his stomach. The boy got up, and to his surprise also walked to the chalkboard. Then he started to write.

Hi, I’m Sherwin Payne and I’ve got selective mutism from past trauma. I was adopted three years ago by my foster family of two years. They’re black, I’m white. We do not look like each other but we’re a family and we’re happy. I’m gay and founder of the school GSA, which I am the only member of at this time, but I’m hoping to see you there soon! Have a wonderful school year!

Jonathan felt like all this was directed to him, and intended to make him feel as guilty as possible for this morning’s actions. This kid had really gone over the top in order to put the teachers on his side, but there was no way anyone would want to befriend someone so brutally honest. The brunet wasn’t even sure if it was naiveness or sarcasm at this point in time. Whatever the intended effect, if he hadn’t felt so guilty he would have probably found it… well, endearing. Under other circumstances, he would have joined the so-called GSA and would have helped out the young man in his endeavour.

Yet, he was now stuck with Thomas, who was openly hollering at the redhead, mocking his “speech” in a high-pitched voice, ridiculing every action, every word the boy had dared to write down. On the other hand, Jonathan remained motionless and didn’t even dare to take his eyes away from the chalkboard. However, his suffering was not yet finished.

“Thank you, Sherwin, now how about the next student?”

That was when the redhead turned around and looked Jonathan directly in the eye in the most murderous way possible, worse even than when he had slapped him, and Jonathan felt his heart break in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the class was less intent in filling in paperwork that the teacher had given them, things like their parent’s address and phone number in case of an emergency, things that were normal under school circumstances. 

There were no other incidents during the length of the class, even Thomas remained calm and concentrated on the task at hand, taking great pride in writing out every single detail of his family’s notoriety, whilst Jonathan finished his paper in under five minutes. There honestly wasn’t much to say that was all that interesting about him, of which Roman, his twin, was the most interesting, probably. He had noticed earlier on that he and his brother had not been placed in the same class or any of the same study groups. That would make it a pain to revise, as they both had different material, but there was, of course, a reason behind the teacher’s decision. They probably thought that they would become a dynamic duo of troublemakers, and in that sense they were right: they may have been mature for their age, but at the end of the day, they were kids like any other. 

Jonathan was left to his own thoughts and examined his surroundings while Thomas scribbled furiously at his paper. The walls were rather plain, no posters like there had been in elementary school, and the view onto the rec area outdoors wasn’t the most exciting either. In the end, the brunet was more or less forced to look at the chalkboard once more, and the words, just below his own, that the teacher had not yet bothered to wipe out. 

His handwriting contrasted quite sharply with the redhead’s: although his own was flowier, the other boy’s was more sharp, using separate lettering rather than cursive as Jonathan did. For some reason, his focus went to the words “past trauma”. It was weird, like something that had difficulty rolling off one’s tongue: past trauma, past trauma, past trauma…Not easy to say, even less easy to endure. But to the point of mutism? Jonathan had his reasons, and technically speaking he was not mute, he had just taken the decision not to speak anymore. Mutism through trauma… now that was something other.

He had researched it when he had taken his decision, something that seemed like years ago but was in fact perhaps only a few months back. This was definitely not the same thing that he had been through, far from it. His trauma had been… endurable, if that word could be applied under any condition. 

To put it simply, he was curious. What could have pushed the redhead to this limit? Was it the reason why he was in foster care in the first place? Morbid curiosity surpassed his guilt, and he stared into the back of the pale boy’s head as if that would reveal the secrets that remained enclosed in that brain of his.

“Class’ up! Time for your first break, make good of it and start doing those reading assignments!” The teacher ordered over the mumble of students, the zip of pencil cases and the squeak of chairs. Thomas was up and waiting for Jonathan even before he had time to give in his paper, a thing that surprised him at first, because just moments ago he had been as concentrated in his task as can be, but of course the reason to his rapidity was quick to reveal itself. It was Sherwin, not that he hadn’t doubted that beforehand, but there had been a part of him that had hoped that Thomas would let off for a while before fully attacking his prey. 

As it seemed to be destined to, he joined Thomas outside the classroom.

“Hey, so we’ve got a new one to join the crew properly, I see.”

Jonathan shouldn’t have been surprised, really, that there was more than one person who “adhered” to Thomas’ ideas, but it still took him a second of consternation to relax and take his place in the ranks of the small group. There were two other people: A tallish, rather quiet-looking boy from the year above, and a smaller girl with her hair held in a ponytail with a yellow flower hairband. She seemed talkative and all around a nice person, whilst the boy was as sullen as they come. 

“Hey guys, so this is Buster. He’s a newbie and he doesn’t talk.”

“Oh, just like our target then? That’s odd, what’s your excuse?”

There was a silence, in which Jonathan threw a pointed look at Thomas. The blond smirked, barely, but then he redirected his attention to the other two kids and waved his hand, dismissing the subject.

“Eh, vocal cord malformation. He isn’t all like ‘my daddy hurt me so now I’m a poor little traumatized orphan boy now uwu’.”

The boy let out a brief bark of laughter, saying ‘good one’ before he settled back into his normal state. The girl sighed and rolled her eyes, flipping her ponytail. 

“Guys, can’t we just get on with it? Leona has been getting on my tits again, I need to punch something to calm my nerves.”

“Good, because our little hero from les Mis is nice and fresh after a holiday healing and adding to his freckles. Oh, Buster boy did punch him this morning, in front of his carers too! My man,” he added, patting Jonathan on the back and grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you now?” said the taller boy, who took a step forward and presented his hand. “I’m Brandon, and I guess you might be worth the enthusiasm Tom puts into you.”

Reluctantly, Jonathan shook the sweaty hand. Brandon held it for too long, he thought, but that might have only been an impression, what with the unsettling way his brown eyes stared into his own blue ones. 

“Come on! Break is nearly over, I wanna have a go on the punching bag,” whined the girl, and with that, they were off.

“The bitch is Sunny,” Brandon whispered into Jonathan’s ear. As much as he knew that it was so that the girl wouldn’t hear him, he still shuddered from the brown-eyed boy’s breath on his ear. Why did he have to be so close?

“Hey, Donny man, target in sight,” Thomas muttered, an evil smile flashing across his face as the blond’s eyes locked on Sherwin. Jonathan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that a person was talking to the small redhead, and that person, smiling and laughing along happily to his jokes, was Roman.

Sunny cracked her knuckles. 

“Sweet! Two fags for the price of one, let’s go groupies!”

Jonathan wanted to say something. Jonathan desperately wanted to cry out, to warn his brother about the imminent threat, the girl and boy he had just met wishing for his blood on their fisted hands, but he couldn’t. He remained silent, just as easily as it had been to apologize to the janitor lady earlier on. In fact, she was there, witnessing the scene without budging an inch, waiting on a good fight. 

Thomas wasn’t doing anything to stop the two other kids either. The brunet threw him a desperate look, but the blond had the same expression on his face as the janitor. He simply wanted to see blood, and who it was from was entirely irrelevant. 

Then, all the colour left his face. His expression turned from machiavelic to panicked, and in seconds he barked his orders to his two cronies.

“RETREAT! God damn it, retreat!”

Someone had rounded the corner. Someone huge. Someone muscular and with eyes that pierced through anything, not unlike lasers. Someone, inexplicably, who also wore a yellow tie. 

Immediately, the attention of everyone in the hall was drawn to Thomas, but at least it was not in vain. Blanching as their boss did, both Sunny and Brandon screeched to a stop, turned tails and trotted back to the blond’s heels like well-trained dogs.

The man, because this could only be a man, took no notice of this, and immediately slung an arm around the now beaming Roman. Jonathan’s eyes were now darting between his brother and Thomas at lightning speed, hoping he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, praying that he’d leave his brother alone-

Then, Roman and the giant kissed.


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey, I think he’s better!”

Jonathan was indeed starting to awaken from his daze, his environment becoming clearer to him with every new second that passed by. There was a bright light blinding him, but otherwise the room seemed cool and calming. For a second, he wondered why he needed calming in the first place.

Then, it struck him.

He immediately bolted upright, feeling the tears staining his cheeks, the smeared makeup. No, this could not be happening. He had done so much to protect them, had sacrificed his own dignity, and Roman… Roman did  _ that _ . It was as if he was  _ trying  _ to make them as best a target as he could.

“Hey, Buster? You good..?”

The voice was rather recognisable, being as nasal and soft as it was. Thomas was looking over him worriedly, and so were Sunny and Brandon, to his surprise. Brandon was even twisting his hands in a way that obviously hurt him.

Jonathan nodded briskly, then, knowing it was probably not enough, smiled in a way that he knew looked more like a grimace than anything else. Still, it wasn’t his fault. 

“Really, i knew it from the start and you didn’t listen to me Buster,” said Thomas, shaking his head and tutting. “He’s too close to you, you really should make him submit to you before things turn nasty.”

It was as if the world wanted him to talk. There was no way on earth he was going to do it, but there he was, tears in his eyes, wishing that he could just speak and  _ tell  _ them everything he wanted to say to them, everything that bothered him, if he were to put it lightly. 

“Anyway, are you feeling better? It’s lunch break right now, we can go to the bathrooms to look for some small fry.”

Suddenly, like a ghost from a horror movie, a lady with monstruous bags under her eyes appeared behind Thomas. With a booming voice, she nearly shouted, making Thomas jump and probably pee himself a little bit:

“No. Jonathan stays here,” said the nurse. “You go now.”

The small gang left quickly after that, tail between their legs, but Brandon did bother to turn around and give Jonathan a little wave and smile before he passed through the threshold of the nurse’s office. 

“You saw your brother being gay and passed out,” the nurse explained in the same booming voice. “I prescribe a good dose of anti-bigotry and some paracetamol.”

* * *

 

Jonathan didn’t see his brother for the rest of the day. Roman seemed to have fled the school along with his newfound lover, but despite his absence, the whispers about him were very much present, and the questions that Jonathan were asked were getting quite annoying to answer. He felt himself getting whiplash from the constant nodding and shaking of his head. A stroke of genius allowed him to write on the front and back of his binder ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, which meant that all questions were answered quickly with that one item. 

The most annoying person of all, however, was Thomas. He refused to drop the subject even once, even refusing to go on his usual bullying sprees because of the opinions he constantly wanted to give to everyone, and the constant flow of mostly repeated questions that he asked Jonathan. 

Despite all this, the boy complied. There were other things on his mind, namely the worrying aggressivity that Thomas and the small furious gang displayed openly, even though there was nothing to channel it into just yet. He knew they were planning on jumping his brother. And he knew he’d have to put himself on the line again to stop them. 

“Hi.”

The brunet jumped out of his skin for what felt like the upteenth time today, whoever it was having managed to creep up on him while he was buried in his thoughts. He looked around, puzzled to find nothing that could have made that noise, then he looked down. It was a kid, barely tall enough to possibly be from any other class than the very first year, which was confirmed by the colour of his tie. 

“Are you the brother of the boy who likes boys?”

Sighing, Jonathan flipped his binder to show him the positive answer side. To his surprise, the kid’s face lit up and he grinned at Jonathan, as the older boy’s heart sank with dread as he understood what was happening.

“I like boys too!”

The senior shushed him, looking around, but the hallways were empty and the blond bastard was nowhere to be seen. Jonathan motioned to the kid to take his hand, which, because he was barely out of elementary, he accepted happily. With eyes darting around rapidly, he pulled the kid through the hallways, avoiding the glare of gossiping students by keeping the kid close by. The red wisp of hair seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Jonathan immediately made a beeline to it. Just before he got there though, he stopped, deciding to wait for the halls to clear. If he destroyed his own lacking reputation, he wouldn’t be capable of helping Roman. 

To his surprise, Sherwin stayed too as the students slowly trickled out as the bell rang for the next class. When it was all but empty apart from a few hurrying slackers, the redhead went to his locker and imputed the code, keeping an eye out as he did. Jonathan couldn’t blame him, as Roman and himself had been forced to do the same thing in their own time. 

This time though, the idea was to not spook the kid and have him run away on the brunet. He made sure that his footsteps were heard as he approached, and the redhead heard them, immediately slamming his locker shut and turning to see Jonathan. He was tense, every fibre of his body alert and trembling, but not in fright. No, the look in his eyes was dead, apart from the anger that ignited them as a flame. 

Immediately, he pointed to his cheek, as darkened by bruising as it was, and all that Jonathan had to say to that was a shrug, although under his nonchalance guilt brewed and spilled over in his gut. It was probably visible on his face, but Jonathan was by far not expecting any mercy from the filiform boy.  Still, he was here on a mission, and he was determined not to leave before he had accomplished it. 

He would have spoken then, were it not for the presence of the younger boy. He was innocent, but he was also naive, and even if he didn’t laugh at Jonathan right away, he was likely to tell his friends about the odd way he spoke. 

“Why doesn’t Thomas like you?” the smaller boy asked, as naively as Jonathan suspected. Turning his back on the both of them (did he really trust him that much already?), the redhead pulled a small whiteboard out of his bag and wrote a couple words on it, before showing it to the youngest of the small group.

“Oooh I see! But does that mean he doesn’t like me either?”

Sherwin’s expression, just like Jonathan’s earlier on, went from puzzled to concerned extremely quickly. He looked around, as if the blond boy was going to jump out at them at any moment, before taking the seventh-grader’s other hand and giving him a sharp tug, that effectively detached him from Jonathan. Despite his protests, Sherwin pulled the boy behind him and stood between him and the other older boy, eyeing the latter murderously.

The brunet made a motion towards the whiteboard, trying to signal that he wanted to use it. Sherwin, however, snatched it away, leaving Jonathan to sigh and pull a piece of paper and a pen out of his bag. 

_ See you behind the left side bushes after school. Promise I won’t jump you, I just need to ask you some things about my brother. _

There, that should do it.

Or not.

_ No,  _ was the prompt and sharp answer, accompanied by a glare that could have melted iron. 

_ How about at your place then? _ he wrote back.  _ I can tell your parents that I want to apologise to them, which I sincerely do want to do, by the way. _

_ Sure,  _ was the reply that came back to him.  _ But don’t hold your breath, we’ve had our fair share of fake excuses. _

And with that, the redhead turned on his heels and left. Jonathan was left there wondering what he had got himself into, and what was going to happen to him from now on.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the day went by without a hitch, apart from the constant questions Jonathan kept getting of course. But even those were dying down as the end of the day approached; it was the last block of day and kids were getting antsy, waiting for the sweet release of the bell so they could dip out of school. Jonathan was however not as excited, and sure, not seeing Thomas for the rest of the day was great, the promise he had made to Sherwin ate him up from the inside. He had promised the redhead that he would apologize to him and his parents. That was the scary part, because you could simply write an apology letter and expect the same reaction when you speak vocally. So he was going to have to speak once again. This was probably the most words he’d spoken in the last three months combined. The bell rang, the kids piled out into the halls. Jonathan didn’t bother to join them yet; when the halls were barren he went to the front entrance, as most kids have done.

The redhead was nowhere to be seen for the time being. Not surprising, Jonathan thought, kicking a small stone that skittered along the paved pathway. He was probably wary of him and any backup that he might have brought along with him. After all, he knew that fear.

Without further ado, he made his way to the bushes and sat down behind one of the larger ones. There was a small crevice there, making the seating comfortable, somehow. The tree had maybe been waiting for him and had shaped itself as to make him feel welcome, he thought. Or maybe this was a popular meet up place and the place had been carved out by countless student’s asses against the hard ground. Who knows. Nevertheless, Jonathan was found dozing off when Sherwin finally appeared.

The first thing that registered in Jonathan’s brain was tall. Although this was far from true if he were to stand up now (thing that he was definitely not going to do, this place was too comfortable for him to move away from it willingly), but yet again the looming figure that the redhead was to him now was more than enough to impress his monkey brain. Not only that, but as he looked up, the same monkey brain became paralysed in fear when he saw the expression on the other boy’s face: disgust, anger, and definitely enough hatred to have a chance at kicking him then and there.

The human brain finally woke up and Jonathan was able to compose himself, rearranging his face into a more neutral expression, hopefully. Sherwin’s scorn did not disappear though, and suddenly made a few gestures with his hands that left Jonathan completely perplexed.

Of course he had not learned ASL. He wasn’t expecting to meet any other mute, or deaf-mute people. His lack of words were a completely independent choice of his, and the summer wouldn’t have been long enough to master the language at the speed Sherwin signed it anyhow. Awkwardly, he managed to scrounge up the memory of one sign, which he was more or less sure meant “peace”, and quickly put his butterfly-shaped hands over his heart.

He definitely didn’t expect the complete shock that registered on Sherwin’s face just then, and it was only a few seconds later that he realised he had just signed ‘love’ to the person he had literally punched in the face this very morning. Sherwin mouthed a silent ‘what’, something nearly hopeful igniting in his eyes for a second, before he shook himself and dredged up the hatred that he had expressed earlier on.

He then pulled out the whiteboard from his bag and proceeded to write with exaggerated strokes on the plastic.

You don’t know how to sign, right?

Jonathan shook his head. Some of the hope melted away from the other boy’s face, but there was still a hint of quizzaciousness on his features that Jonathan just found to be hilarious. Without thinking, he burst out laughing. It wasn’t mocking, far from it, it was ,just the ridicule of the situation that was getting to him. He took a couple minutes to calm down and to wipe his tears of glee, by which time Sherwin was holding back a small smile.

So his heart hadn’t been completely broken, Jonathan thought.

No matter, but you’re going to have to explain to me why you can’t sign, because honestly I have no idea how you would communicate otherwise.

Right, communication, Jonathan stifled down his laughter once again as he held his arm out in hopes that sherwin would let him borrow the whiteboard, the holy grail that could help Jonathan climb out of the hole he dug for himself. The redhead grudgingly obliged.

This is a secret: I’m not really mute. I can explain when we get to your place, I promise.

The whiteboard was handed back.

And how do I know that you’re not going to jump me?

Jonathan sighed when he read the words written there, and took the board back once more.

I saw my brother kiss a guy today, I think I’m more or less forced to acknowledge that being gay is not bad. Not that I didn’t know that already.

There was a snort of contempt from the redhead as he read what Jonathan had just written, and if he were perfectly honest with himself, the brunet could perfectly understand where he was coming from. It still hurt, though, and it would probably hurt for quite a while.

I didn’t mean to punch you. Not really, Jonathan defended weakly, refusing to give the whiteboard back to Sherwin when he requested it. Thomas sort of forced the circumstances.

Fuming, the redhead snatched back the whiteboard.

Why did you do it then?

He was scared. That was the only true answer, but admitting it would hurt even more, earn him even more contempt, and he’d probably be shunned by the one he had sworn to protect so fervently. There was nothing more to do now, other than open his mouth, explain himself, and-

A car honked its horn from somewhere beyond the school limits. Sherwin rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile.

That’s my parents, let’s go.

Before Jonathan could stop him, he had sauntered off down the central path to the open gate, through which he disappeared. Jonathan ran after him, not wanting to lose him, and with that his one chance at redeeming himself.

He rounded the corner to immediately be faced with one of the poshest cars he had ever seen, a sleek grey bullet in a mass of tin cans. The gentle thrum of the motor beckoned him, just like Sherwin was from the front passenger side.

You get in the back with my sister, Sherwin had written on his board, a smile on his face that was no longer enthused, but sinister rather, like he knew the verbal tanning he was about to get.

“So, you’re the kid who punched my son,” were the first words he heard as he entered the car. “Name’s James Payne, and if you pull that kind of shit again you’re going to be fighting me. Anyway, what’s your name, punk?”

Sherwin signed to him, something that he managed to catch from the corner of his eye while backing out the beast of a car and sprinting forward silently, down the now nearly deserted road. “Ah, Jonathan. And you’re mute, too. Great, that is just the best. Really, don’t you have a little sympathy? Anyway, I’m glad you want to make up for what you did, if you’re as good at maths as you say you are, a study date is a pretty good plan. Oh, and you can do the same for Samaha back there too.”

Jonathan turned his head to look at the little girl sleeping in the back seat, cute beaded braids framing her slightly drooly face. Why not, thought Jonathan. He actually was quite decent at maths.

“And you better get a head start on those books too, boys, I require only the best marks in my house. Speaking of which, here we are.”

They pulled up in front of a fine white picket fence; Jonathan reflected for a second on the fact that they were probably quite a way out of the way of Newgate, and if Sherwin’s dad didn’t take him back to the school, he would probably have to spend the rest of the evening navigating his way back home, thing that he was definitely not looking forward to. But still, it would probably be worth it in the end, right?

The look that the redhead sent him said otherwise, but despite the damper that this put on Jonathan’s enthusiasm, there was still hope he would be listened to, probably.

It struck him then that it was just as dangerous for him to speak to Sherwin than it was to walk up to Thomas directly and bleat out poetry right in front of him and the rest of the school. Sherwin was just as likely to keep his mouth shut about his unfortunate predicament than the blond was, and despite being on the other end of the social scale, he still had a certain influence over the school kids because of Thomas. By being the most popular guy’s in school’s choice target, he stole a little bit of that power away for himself. If he spoke, he will be listened to, even if it was by wary ears.

Still, the risk had to be taken. Jonathan had his principles, and one of them was to never go back on his word. Well, it was true in this case that he had done so several times, but it was always with good intentions.

In the end, Jonathan had to admit to himself that he really wasn’t all that good at keeping his word.

Car doors slamming shut snapped him out of his reverie, the fact that he was now in unknown territory making itself clear to him as he watched father and son walk up to the front door. Jonathan got out of the car and joined them before they closed the door on him.

As soon as he walked into the house, he was met with Sherwin’s mother. He didn’t have time to even look around the house to feel deeply unwelcome in the place. Her gaze was on him, deep and somewhat melancholy, but also disappointed in a way that struck him deeper than he would have dared imagine.

"Good afternoon, young man," she said, not the slightest hint of warmth in her tone. "I do not know what you are doing here but I suggest you leave soon, I do not want you hurting my family any more than you have already."

Then Sherwin came in, signed to her, and all of a sudden it was ok and seconds later he was sitting at the kitchen table, doing his reading with Sherwin and taking notes along with him, sipping orange juice and eating cereal bars. It had all gone so fast that there really wasn't time for Jonathan's brain to process what was going on, but all in all things turned out alright, so he decided there wasn't much cause for worry.

The evening went along pretty much that way; there wasn't really a time Jonathan could talk to Sherwin in private, let alone mention his brother, let alone speak to him. It was frustrating to the point where he became to think that he was tormenting him, getting back at him for that reddened cheek by chewing away at his patience.

In the end, nothing happened that evening, despite all the anticipation that Jonathan had mustered up then and there. They spent a very studious, very productive evening, much more so than if Jonathan had spent it on his own, he was surprised to notice.

It was only as he was leaving, too late and yet too early, that he realised two things. The first of course, being that he had not managed to get a word in edgeways throughout the entire evening, and another, more surprisingly, was that he had spent a particularly pleasant evening at the Payne's home.

All that was left to do was watch out of the back windscreen as Sherwin smiled and waved at him, along with his little sister, as his father drove Jonathan back home, where he was going to have to speak to his brother himself.


	6. Chapter 6

The trip back home couldn't have been longer, honestly. It was quiet and uncomfortable, too many thoughts crowding Jonathan's head and preventing him from focussing on any given thing at once. This day had been too rich in events for him, and all in all this morning seemed to be further away than the few hours that it had truly been. There was just enough time during the trip for Jonathan's apprehension to build, yet not enough for him to calm down and reason himself into more pacified state. Thus, by the time they pulled up in front of his house, thoughts were swirling about his mother, his brother, and Sherwin, despite the fact that he knew he was going to see him again the next day and that he was going to be perfectly safe at home.

To Jonathan's horror, Mr. Payne adressed him the first few words since the beginning of the evening, and they were just the ones that Jonathan was dreading the most.

"So, Jonathan, do you think your parents would mind if I had a quick conversation with them?"

The boy froze, mouth half open as if to say something, something that of course he could not say, closed it and shook his head. It was only after he had done so that he realised what he had done, and his face turned from flushed to ashen.

"Perfect! I won't be long, son, I just want to meet the head of the house and make sure that you're in good hands, alright buddy?" The man said, not waiting for an answer before turning on his heels and striding up the steps leading to the front door. Jonathan trotted along behind him, his throat as tight as a vice as once again he was tempted into talking that day.

A knock and a few seconds later had the boy's mother and the portly man engaging in conversation like they were long-lost friends, after he had explained the situation to her. Tea was made, and as soon as he could get past Mr. Payne and had a clear run to the stairs, Jonathan leapt forward and ran up them two at a time, wanting to get out of sight and of mind of the two adults downstairs as fast as possible. He was really, really not looking forward to the conversation he and his mother were going to have later on.

With a sigh of relief, the boy closed the door on the conversation downstairs, turned, and stopped. Of course he had forgotten about his brother in all the panic, and of course he was sitting on the bottom bunk of their shared bed, reading a book and humming to a tune playing on his walkman. Jonathan froze, hoping beyond hope that his near-identical twin brother had not seen or heard him, only for him to turn to meet his eye seconds later.

There was no frown on his face, nothing at all that Jonathan would have expected from his brother finding out that he was in with the bully's group. Disgruntled, Jonathan waved back, but didn't answer the smile.

Maybe he hadn't heard about it. Maybe he hadn't seen him faint, maybe he hadn't caught sight of Thomas and the crew scrapping him off the floor, maybe...

*But he is the one who put himself in danger!* countered a voice in his head. *He's the one who's taking a risk here, the only reason you did what you did was to protect both of you! And he had to blow that chance on the first day of school!*

The brunet gulped and took a step forward. Roman continued to ignore him, focussed on his comic, his head bobbing to the music sifting through his headset. It was as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if his actions wouldn't force them to move out again. Jonathan felt the righteous fury brew in his stomach, and he took another step forward.

This was it. He'd had enough. He hadn't made all these sacrifices for nothing.

"Roman."

Somehow, he had heard him through the blaring of his music. Jonathan's twin switched the walkman off, set his book aside, and looked his brother straight in the eye.

"What's the problem?"

That's when things started to get a bit more difficult. Jonathan wanted to explode, to say all he had to say in that moment, get it all out and over with, but as was often the case before, when he still tried to speak, the words got stuck in his throat. He stood there, fuming, incapable of producing even a meagre sentence. Roman gave him a knowing look and passed him a whiteboard.

He really regretted not knowing sign languages in times like this. It took so long for him to write down his thoughts on that board, and as he lay down the words, he couldn't help but feel like what he write was inappropriate, and had to stop himself from wiping them away with his sleeve.

Finally, he passed the board to his brother, who read it in a fraction of the time it had taken for Jonathan to write on it.

"Ok, so... I understand your concern, but really, Jonathan. I'm old enough to make my own decisions and take the risks that *I* want to take. I have no reason to justify anything to you, especially since your actions this morning. I saw you with those kids, I know what you did, and I know why you did it. I won't go as far as saying that you're a coward, Jonathan, but nothing can stop me from thinking it."

The words hit like bullets. In anger, the boy snatched the board back from his brother, wrote 'Fuck you' on it in letters so angry they could barely be read, before throwing it on the floor and stomping out of the room.

It took him nearly half an hour and a great deal of water splashed on his face to calm himself down. As he looked into the mirror, all he saw was the reflection of his watery blue eyes, eyes that would have been beautiful were they not swollen and reddened by tears. He understood what his brother meant, but he had sworn to make it right somehow, and that was just what he was going to do.

As Jonathan made his way downstairs, he froze, a bout of hearty laughter coming from the kitchen that couldn't have been his mother's stopping him in his tracks. He would have thought that Mr. Payne was gone by now, but he had evidently been mistaken. Sure enough, when he peeked around the corner into the kitchen beyond, he could make out two figures sitting in the kitchen surounded by the swirling vapor coming off their respective coffees. His mother looked cheerful, and he was grateful for that, but that didn't mean that she had not been told what he had done to Mr. Payne's son earlier in the day. Still, he had to bite the bullet at some point, and he might as well do it while there was a guest in the house.

"Hi Mom, hi Mr. Payne. I just came down for a snack."

"Jonathan, my boy, didn't you eat something when you were over at our house?"

"Erm, I meant a snack for Roman. Yes, that's right."

"Honey, Roman already had something earlier on. Why don't you make yourself a cocoa and come and sit with us? Mr. Payne was telling me about how you and Sherwin met, it's very funny!"

That left the boy dumbfounded. Maybe he had misheard? But no, sure enough, Mr. Payne proceeded to recount the tale of how Jonathan had bumped into the redhead that morning and had thus sent his books flying. Through the way he had told it, the story became hilarious, and by the time he had finished even Jonathan had laughed a good amount.

The boy looked up at Mr. Payne then, and although the man was now back to being serious, he gave Jonathan what was unmistakably a wink.

*So he's covering for me,* he thought. *Why* was another matter, but the fact still was there. He wouldn't have to face his mother's wrath today, well, not for this reason anyway.

"Right, I should get going then, thank you for the hospitality Mrs. Castrillo," the man replied, and with another huge surge of laughter he left the room. Before Jonathan knew it, he was standing on the doorstep, waving goodbye to the man whose son he had punched in the face.

"What a nice man. Maybe we should invite the whole family around one day, and Jonathan! You managed to make a friend on the first day of school, I'm so proud of you!" his mother exclaimed, pulling her son into a tight hug and kissing his temple.

"Mom~! You're embarassing me!"

"There's no one around to be embarrassed about, silly!" his mom cackled, planting another kiss on his cheek before letting go. "Get Roman to come down and help me with diner, it's been a while since he's done any chores."

Suddenly, Jonathan was precipitated back into the reality of the evening's events, and how he would have to make peace with his brother. It wasn't that he didn't realise he'd gotten off light, but the fact remained that he had fallen out with his brother, his biggest confident, the one and only true friend he could always count on.

As he crept towards their shared bedroom, he heard the sound of laughter. It was not booming, like Mr. Payne's, but light and bold. It was definitely Roman, there was no doubt about that.

"We've got them this time, we're not going to let them go! They'll have to admit defeat at some point, we..."

The rest of the conversation was lost on Jonathan, as his brother then started whispering. Odd, his brother was plotting something, that wasn't really like him.

"Hey Roman, Mom wants you to come down and help with the food."

The twin perked up, then darkened when he met eyes with Jonathan. He got up and walked straight past him without a comment, disappearing down the stairs and beyond.

Well, at least he had the room to himself now.


End file.
